


keep my heart from moving

by waveridden



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Other, Season: Twilight Mirage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveridden/pseuds/waveridden
Summary: The first thing Fourteen notices, with the absentmindedness of someone missing the forest for the trees, is that Tender’s hair is a different color than they remember. It’s not different enough that she could’ve dyed it, just a slightly different shade of purple, a little warmer than they thought it was, poofing out from under her hat.(Or: a reunion after a breakup.)
Relationships: Fourteen Fifteen/Tender Sky
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: 2019 AU December Challenge





	keep my heart from moving

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the AUcember series, a self-made challenge where I try to write a new AU one-shot every day. You can read all of the AUcember fics in the collection linked above. Title is from Cola Falls by The Mary Onettes.
> 
> Inspired by the bit in the postmortem where Ali said something about interpreting Tender and Fourteen's canon goodbye as a pretty awful breakup. All thanks and love to Tam, who answered my random texts about nonprofit names.

The community center is barebones - literally not even walls in place, just barely the skeleton of a building. Fourteen has to wear a hard hat in order to go inside, which is one of those things that they try not to act excited about. Hard hats mean some kind of excitement, which is something that they’ve been sorely lacking lately.

Not that excitement is the be-all end-all or anything. They became a social worker because they decided the excitement was less important than the impact. They’re doing good things, safe things, things that are good for the community here.

Still, there’s something refreshingly… normal, having to duck under beams and watch their step as they walk through the guts of the building. They have to lift a hand to hold their hard hat in place as they follow the contractor. Much better than sitting in an office all day.

“This’ll be the main room,” says the contractor, whose name Fourteen has already forgotten. He looks like a Mark. Tough guy, good handshake, didn’t seem at all put off by how Fourteen was dressed today. They like Mark. “We’re thinking from there-” he points to a corner with plenty of support beams in place- “to here.” To a corner that’s clearly marked off.

Fourteen nods, because they’re really not here to judge the building itself. They’re here because the company they work for wants someone to actually see the building, and Gig couldn’t make the drive up from Skein.

“Lots of visits today,” continues Mark - no, it’s not Mark, it would be easy to remember something like Mark. Maybe it’s something simpler. Steel? No, too on the nose for a contractor, Fourteen would remember that. He’s still talking, something about a visit from their angel investor, which - well, maybe they should listen. The community center was a passion project, and when all hope had seemed lost they’d gotten a donation from an anonymous investor. More than what they’d needed, enough that they could start thinking about things like a second center, if this one went well.

Shit, not-Mark is still talking.

Fourteen schools their face into their best impression of someone who is definitely listening, but before they have time to actually start registering words again, they hear footsteps behind them. They’re already turning around when they hear the person approaching say “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

They know that voice.

The first thing Fourteen notices, with the absentmindedness of someone missing the forest for the trees, is that Tender’s hair is a different color than they remember. It’s not different enough that she could’ve dyed it or anything, just a slightly different shade of purple, a little warmer than they thought it was, poofing out from under her own hard hat. And she’s wearing shoes that Fourteen could never have imagined her wearing before this, far too… sensible. Heavy coat, although her clothes underneath it look as Tender-esque as ever.

And, Fourteen’s brain supplies helpfully, Tender is standing in front of them, looking as surprised as Fourteen feels.

“Not a problem at all,” says not-Mark, who has not noticed the crises happening before his very eyes. “Assuming you’re representing the investor.”

“Representing, right,” says Tender, who’s normally a better liar than this. But the way she says it, the way her eyes flit up and down Fourteen’s body, are the loudest, clearest telegraph: she’s the investor. And she wasn’t expecting to see them here.

Fourteen opens their mouth to- to what, ask their ex why the hell she’s funding their passion projects but couldn’t return their calls? - but not-Mark pushes past them, hand outstretched. “March Apex,” he says, and Fourteen goes to make eye contact with Tender out of habit, out of inside joke. She could always tell when they’d forgotten a name, was normally pretty good at finding an excuse to whisper it in their ear.

Tender doesn’t meet Fourteen’s eyes, just shakes March’s hand. “Tender Sky,” she says. “Happy to make your acquaintance. I won’t be here long-”

“Stay as long as you like,” March says, which kicks him a dozen steps down in Fourteen’s estimation. And then, in a move that sacrifices another two dozen steps, he turns and says, “This here is, uh, a rep from the nonprofit running this-”

“Sanctuary of Greater Seneschal,” Tender says. Goddamn it, she knows exactly why they’re here. “Yeah, uh, we’ve met.”

“Yes we have,” Fourteen says, far too curtly to their own ears. Tender doesn’t even fucking look at them. They’re going to kill Gig when this is over, not because this is his fault but because they need something that’s going to make them feel better. “March, thank you for the tour, it’s been lovely, but I’ve received word from one of my offices that they need a consultation.”

“Didn’t even see you take the call,” March remarks, cementing him firmly as Fourteen’s least favorite person in the world.

“Offices?” Tender says, still not quite looking them in the face.

Fourteen can work with that. They adjust their hard hat and glance away. “I, ah, I’m not corporate anymore. I do consulting work for a couple of nonprofits in Seneschal.”

“Oh.” She shifts, just slightly, so she’s looking over Fourteen’s shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were still in the city. I thought you left.”

“I thought you left too,” Fourteen snaps. Her eyes actually meet theirs in surprise, and they take a deep breath, trying to calm the way their stomach is roiling. This is business. This has to be business. “You probably won’t see me again, I’m not the primary person working on this project. If you’ll excuse me-”

“Fourteen-”

“If you want to talk, you have my number, I assume.”

Tender doesn’t flinch, but her eyes narrow. Fourteen still doesn’t exactly understand what happened. Sure, they’d been fighting about plenty of things, about Fourteen quitting their job and about Tender taking a new one. But it was still the nastiest kind of shock when they came home one day and she was gone. Anything that could be called completely hers was missing from the apartment. She hadn’t answered calls or emails, not from Fourteen.

And now she’s here, apparently rich enough to fund random passion projects for nonprofits, not making eye contact with them.

“Mark, it’s been a pleasure,” Fourteen says, not quite looking at Mark - shit, March, that’s probably rude, but they need to get out of here. “Someone from Sanctuary will be in touch with you again. Thank you for your time.”

March says something that Fourteen doesn’t hear as they leave the construction site. They step through what they’ve been told will be an entryway, a game room, a quiet room. They’re not even sure where they’re going, but next thing they know they’re sitting in their car, fumbling with their phone.

Gig picks up on the second ring, because he’s more plugged in than anyone Fourteen has ever met. Well, almost anyone. “Hey, how’s the tour?”

“The angel investor is Tender,” says Fourteen. And then, because Gig probably still wants an actual answer, “The center looks good. It’s mostly just construction right now.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on a second.” Gig says something muffled that Fourteen can’t catch, and then comes back to the phone. “Tender as in your fiancee?”

“We were never technically engaged,” Fourteen points out, because something about saying ex-fiancee has always felt so much sadder than ex-girlfriend. At least people assume that an ex-girlfriend wasn’t as serious.

“Your ex-girlfriend who packed up and left two weeks after you proposed,” Gig says, because he is good at many things, but not this. “She’s our angel investor for the community center?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I mean, why would she put money into this? Is your name in a press release or something?”

Fourteen barks out a laugh and scrubs a hand down their face. “You think she’d drop as much money on a project as she did just because I was involved peripherally?”

“You’re not peripheral,” Gig says patiently, and for a second Fourteen is overcome with warmth. They don’t always agree with Gig, but the man has a way of making everyone feel like they’re being listened to. “And I mean, why else would she do it? She doesn’t really have a history of philanthropy or anything, right?”

“Not that I know about, but it’s a shit way to make amends.”

“Oh, no, for sure, that’s fucked up.” He pauses. “Is now a bad time to tell you I can’t make it to the meeting on Friday with the investor’s representatives?”

Fourteen takes a deep, cleansing breath. They do not feel cleansed. “Now is the worst time to tell me, yes.”

“Oh,” Gig says. “Then just, like, forget that, and I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“ _ Gig. _ ”

“Vanya has to go to court,” he says, and, fine, that makes sense. Gig does a lot of work with Sanctuary, but his first commitments have always been to his people in Skein, especially Vanya and all her kids. “Send someone else.”

“There’s no one else.”

“Then you have until Friday to get ready. That’s good, right?”

“Terrific,” Fourteen says. “I don’t know why I called you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Gig says, which doesn’t make sense, except for the part where it does. “I have to go, but we’ll talk tomorrow or something if you really, really can’t do it.”

“We’re talking tomorrow either way,” Fourteen says. “Tell Vanya I say hello. Goodbye, Gig.”

They hang up halfway through Gig saying goodbye, and lean forward to press their forehead against the steering wheel. There’s a major difference between seeing Tender pop up in their friends’ Facebook posts three times a year and seeing her at their job. And just as major a difference between seeing her once and seeing her once a week.

Their phone buzzes, and they answer it without looking. “Gig, unless this is about Vanya-”

“Oh,” Tender says, and Fourteen groans without meaning to. “Sorry, I just- I thought you would still have my number. I don’t know why.”

“I do have your number,” they say tiredly. “I didn’t look at my phone before answering, Tender, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to call. I thought you would still be in the building tour.”

“Oh,” she says again. “I just- I know I don’t have much of a right to say this, but I don’t want you to hate me.”

Fourteen slumps back in their seat. “I don’t want to hate you either, Tender. But I’d really like it if you gave me reasons not to.”

“I’ll schedule our next work meeting at that French place you like. And I’ll pay.”

“That place is closed down. They make Cambodian food now.”

“We can find another French place.”

“Tender-”

“Please,” Tender says. “Fourteen, I- I’m trying.”

“Then why is this conversation happening over a phone call?”

The tap at their window startles them so badly they nearly drop their phone, but they make a neat recovery and turn around. Tender’s brows furrow, but she makes a motion at the lock for the door.

Fourteen rolls the window down instead. It’s petty, but they’re entitled a little pettiness right now. “I really don’t have anything to say to you,” they say, more as a caution than a cruelty.

“I know,” Tender says. It’s been so long since they had the full force of her attention on them. It’s overwhelming, in all the ways they remembered, and for a second they can’t breathe. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

“That’s not fair,” Fourteen says before they can stop themself. “You  _ left. _ ”

“We were fighting all the time. You weren’t exactly innocent in all this.”

“Couples fight sometimes, Tender, but fighting doesn’t always mean breaking up.”

“What, and you wouldn’t have left?”

“Of course not,” Fourteen says, far too honest for their own good. “Not without talking to you first.”

Tender sighs, some of the tension seeping out of her shoulders. She’s still wearing the hard hat. It clashes with the rest of her outfit, and Fourteen misses her so much it aches. “Let me take you to dinner,” she says again. “As a coworker.”

“Alright,” Fourteen says, as clipped as they can around the knot in their throat. “But if you ever want to go out as an acquaintance, or as a friend, you have a lot of work to do.”

Tender looks at them for a moment longer, and then nods to herself. “You name the day, and I’ll get the reservation,” she says.

Fourteen raises their eyebrows. If they didn’t know better, they’d think that’s a promise to make amends. “I’ve been told I’m meeting with you Friday.”

“Done.” She lifts her phone and pauses. “Do you like Cambodian food?”

“I haven’t been to the restaurant since it reopened.”

“Then we’ll go Friday,” Tender says. She doesn’t quite smile at them. Fourteen doesn’t quite smile back. It doesn't feel like old times. But it feels better than things have felt in years.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on both Tumblr and Twitter @waveridden!


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